


Close Confessions

by TangentiaLives



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Snogging, gratuitous fluff, if you think this didn't happen when they were in the tent you're wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24085933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangentiaLives/pseuds/TangentiaLives
Summary: A cold night in the tent leads to some confessions both Hermione and Harry have held close to their hearts.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81
Collections: Harmony For Essentials Gift Exchange





	Close Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xLoveMx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLoveMx/gifts).



> This was written for xLoveMx as part of the Harmony & Co. (18+) Harmony for Essentials Gift Exchange. The prompt I chose was bedsharing. I hope this lifts you up a little, and thank you for all you do! Please stay safe <3

It was cold. No, that was an understatement. It was frigid. It was barely midnight, and he had shivered himself wide awake twice, even though he was wearing two layers. Ruefully, he reflected that the tent really didn’t have good insulation, though he didn’t particularly expect it to. It was a tent, after all, not a hotel. The heating spells they’d cast had clearly worn off, and so he’d woken again, his teeth chattering and body shaking. 

Across the way, he could see the bundle of blankets that was Hermione slightly trembling. He frowned, unwilling to see her suffering when he could do something about it. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he padded over to hers, the shock of cold air stealing the sound from his voice. “‘Mione.” She barely stirred, and he tried again, his breath frosting in the air. “‘Mione.”

“Harry?” she mumbled, then sat up suddenly, her eyes wide and aware. “Harry, is everything okay?”

“You’re freezing, and I’m freezing,” he said plainly. “Even with the warming charms, it’s not enough. I figured, if we just — well, if we lay together — we might be less miserable and could maybe sleep for once.” He felt his cheeks burning at the words that had come out of his mouth, but he was cold enough, and tired enough, that he was willing to risk the potential embarrassment. They’d done this once or twice before, so it was nothing new. Still, every time he asked he felt as though he were standing on a precipice.

“Yes,” she agreed barely a moment later, flipping the covers open and inviting him in. “It makes perfect sense. Shared body heat and all.” She shivered at the cool air and looked at him with a hint of impatience when he didn’t immediately clamber in. “What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. It had seemed so straightforward only moments ago, but faced with the reality that his rather audacious request had been granted yet again, he couldn’t quite bring himself to follow through. It seemed almost too good to be true, the idea of getting to cuddle with Hermione. 

Well. In for a knut, in a for a galleon, he supposed. Swallowing, he slid in between the sheets and flipped the blankets back up. 

Sleepwarm, Hermione radiated heat, and though they were basically squished together due to the bed’s small frame, he scooted even closer and pressed the entire length of her body up against hers, eager to share her warmth. His feet tangled with hers and he felt every dip and curve of her soft body against his as he laid his head on the pillow, his face a breath away from her own. 

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” she replied, and was it his imagination, or had she moved slightly closer? “Comfortable?”

He made a big show of wiggling a bit and settling in, going so far as to drape his arm over her. A sudden intake of breath told him she wasn’t unaffected, and he hoped she couldn’t feel his pulse thundering through him. 

Even though he had harbored feelings for his best friend for weeks now, he hadn’t dared act on them. Perhaps it was the darkness, or the fact he was positive he would be part icicle by the time the night was over if he didn’t warm up. He wasn’t sure what precisely compelled him forward, but he gave himself freedom to act as he wished. 

“Harry?” she asked questioningly as he nuzzled his face into that glorious mane of hair that was so distinctly and uniquely hers. 

He squeezed her hip in response. “Tell me this is okay,” he fairly begged, his voice low, as he hoped he hadn’t misinterpreted the longer, softer looks she had been sending him or the sometimes pensive, sometimes dreamy expressions he had seen replace her perpetually strained and worried one.

She shifted in his hold, drawing back, and reached for her wand, casting the bluebell fire charm she was so well known for and directing the flame to dance in the air by the head of the bed. The small, blue flames cast shadows over her face, and he unconsciously moved closer to see her expression. Her eyes were uncertain, and it made his body tense. He forced himself to relax, though he couldn’t help but wonder. Was she wanting to  _ talk _ ? Perhaps it wasn’t okay. Perhaps it was —

Tartly, she told him, “I can see you overthinking. Stop it. I just wanted to see your face when…” She hesitated. “I just wanted to see your face.”

“You see my face all the time,” he responded cheekily, and she huffed a soft laugh.

“Stop being difficult.” It was said fondly. There was a pause, and she bit her lip. He resisted the urge to run his thumb over it, because it wasn’t his place to do things like that now, and perhaps not ever. “I...well…”

“I was thinking—”

“I wanted to tell you—”

They both stumbled to a stop as they spoke at the same time. He huffed a laugh as she pushed an errant strand of hair behind her face.

“Well?” he prompted when she seemed disinclined to go on. When she still seemed reticent, he took a deep breath and gathered his courage around him. “Can I tell you something?” 

She looked into his eyes with her startling caramel and green-flecked ones. “Of course you can,” she said instantly, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. “You can tell me anything.”

“Anything, hm?” He felt his heart racing and wondered in the back of his mind if anyone had ever died of sheer nerves. “Well, Miss Granger, may I start by telling you how grateful I am that you are allowing me to share your bed this fine evening?” She smiled at that, and encouraged, he plowed on, “May I also say how beautiful you look? And...and how lucky I am that you have stayed by my side through thick and thin? I am so, so lucky to have you.” 

His voice caught, and he touched her face gently with only the tips of his fingers. “I could never have done this without you, Hermione. And I...well. To be honest, ‘Mione, I love you.” He tried to smile and only managed a quirk of his lips. “I really do. I had meant to say something more romantic,” he said ruefully, “but that’s the heart of it. I love you so much.”

At his words, her face crumpled, and a tear leaked out of the corner of one eye as he continued, “you’ve never left me, and you’ve always stood up for me. You’ve saved my sorry arse a million times, and I’ve always taken it for granted. But then Ron — Ron  _ left _ , and you didn’t. Again. And it made me look at you, and really  _ see you _ , every wonderful, beautiful inch of you. And I just felt I had to tell you,” he finished lamely, his steam running out abruptly. He looked away for a moment, then back up. “I understand if you don’t feel the sa—”

Her lips covered his own, their warmth burning into him, and he chased after them as she pulled away, a flush on her face. “Harry, I...I love you, too.” She gently thumped his chest. “Isn’t it obvious? I feel as though I’ve been mooning after you for ages.”

An incandescent heat was creeping through his body, and he angled in for another brief snog, his hand coming to stroke her cheek as he did so. “You have?” He asked softly when he pulled away, placing a kiss on her nose. “Since when?”

She blushed, the pink of her skin shadowed in the night. “Awhile,” she admitted, her fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt. “I feel like always, really. I looked up one day, and I just  _ knew _ . It wasn’t any one thing. It was you, Harry...it’s always been you.” 

  
  
  



End file.
